


Galaxy's Bond

by PurpleFunkyDishwasher



Category: Groove Crusaders - TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Song), TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Crusader Verse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleFunkyDishwasher/pseuds/PurpleFunkyDishwasher
Summary: A space pirate making a living from funk-smuggling and the Lord of a strict alien planet find their fates intertwined.The story of Commander Meouch's and Lord Phobos' friendship and feud.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. In Their Best Interest

A finger tapped against the wheel to the beat of the song as he hummed along to the melody.

The song ended, much to his disappointment, but he was quick to eject the CD and choose another from the CD book aptly labelled “funk”.

As soon as the new song started, he was already tapping his finger to the beat and getting into the groove again as his ship approached an awfully grey planet.

Malice-6. Known, like so many before it, for its high level of education and not much else. Were it not for the knowledge they kept, they wouldn’t even be on maps, and that’s the way they liked it. They held a seat on an Interplanetary Council, and that’s about all he’d heard before he tuned out. All he needed were the coordinates and a little bit of background, not the whole government bullshit.

‘Tell me the planet, the place, and I’ll sort the rest of the important shit out,’ was what he would tell the people who went on a bit too long. Unfortunately,  _ everybody _ who wanted something from him had some vested interest in these planets, somehow. Best thing to do in those cases was to leave.

If they didn’t wanna listen to him, then he didn’t wanna listen to them.

He landed his ship in some backwater part of the planet, where he wouldn’t be fined for not landing in the designated parking area. Anybody with half a brain knew it was just an easy way for your vehicle to be tracked and locked down in the event of an “emergency”, whatever that meant.

The problem with these areas was that he made quite a trek for himself - it mightn’t have been the fastest way, but it was the safest.

He continued to hum the tune to himself, tapping the beat on his leg as he walked. These behaviours faded out as he reached the city of Donne, replaced with the  _ normal _ behaviour of walking and  _ only _ walking.

How could these people live such dull, ordinary lives?

Few people roamed the streets. The exception to these were law enforcement officers and people rushing home, who were sure to give the guy with a guitar bag strapped to his back a few weird looks and ask a couple of questions - you know, in case he was suss.

Which, yeah, he  _ absolutely _ was.

This meant that he often had to confine his travel to back streets and alleyways where light was dim for many species, but not for him.

His travel came to an end at Mingle, a business which, during the day (and by the advertisements posted around outside), marketed itself as a business for meeting like minded individuals.

He knocked on the solid back door. One. Two. Rest. Three-four.

There were jingles and slides from inside, and the door opened only a crack, enough to see little more than the eye of the gruff man inside.

‘Name?’

‘You guys were expectin’ me - d’ya really need it?’

‘Your name?’

‘How many fuckin’ Ibesi do you get out here?’

‘Your  _ name _ ,  _ sir _ ?’

He smiled and laughed. ‘That’s more like it. Commander Jazzlan Meouch.’

The man behind the door huffed. It closed momentarily as the final locks clicked, and Meouch was granted entry through the venue’s kitchen.

By night, Mingle became a bar for those looking for a little bit of excitement in the doldrum of life on Malice-6. People who enjoyed the knowledgeable atmosphere, yet needed something to keep their lives from growing stagnant.

A thin layer of smoke veiled the finer features of the bar. People laughed and chatted and drank to - whatever the fuck this music was. Decent, but nothing like what he was gonna be supplying them with shortly.

‘Oi!’ called the barkeep, ‘you, lion!’

Meouch pushed through the crowd. ‘You don’t know my name either, huh? Your doorman-’

‘Your name ain’t important, neither is your idle chit chat. You know what you’re here for, yeah? Get up there and give ‘em what they want.’

Meouch smirked - straight to the point. Always liked that in people.

He set himself up, taking a position in the corner of the bar - out of the way, where he wouldn’t be disturbed. Unnoticed, until he started playing, at which point all heads turned to him.

It almost seemed to go quiet - just a lion and his bass, just Meouch and his slaps, focused on this task and this task alone. Every slap a high, every pop a tingle of euphoria down his spine.

Everybody in the room was feeling it, but he was feeling it most of all - the pure ecstasy of funk.

He looked up from the bass when the song ended. Nobody clapped or cheered, but he’d learnt that was par for the course.

But he noticed one pair of eyes on him, from a young woman. They weren’t beautiful and kind like one would expect of  _ young women _ , but were rough, full of passion and hatred from hardships she’d overcome, hardships that had toughened her to the world around her.

Meouch knew about that all too well.

Back to the task at hand - he didn’t come here to stare at people.

The thing about funk, given its addictive qualities, is how easy it is to get lost in the rhythm, the groove; you get paid for a couple of hours of the stuff, but you forget the time. Has it been one hour? Two? Has the whole night passed you by and now you have to deal with trying to get more than the agreed price?

He’d tried to get better at managing it over the years, but he still got carried away. When Meouch checked the time he growled softly to himself - only half an hour over, but it was more than he’d been paid for.

He decided not to make a deal out of it this time.

Meouch stood up and began to pack away the bass.

‘That’s some high quality funk you got there,’ came the voice of the woman.

‘If you want more, then it ain’t free.’

‘Not tonight, I don’t. I’ve gotten my buzz.’ Meouch turned - the woman whose eyes he’d met earlier. ‘I was looking to strike a deal with you.’

‘How much you got?’

‘Not much.’

‘Then I’m outta your price range.’

‘I was actually hoping to strike a business deal with you.’

Meouch raised a brow. ‘Do I look like some corporate asshole to you? I don’t do business deals, trades, swaps, whatever you wanna call ‘em.’

‘Maybe once I tell you my name you’ll be interested.’

‘What is it?’

‘Narala. Nara might be more familiar.’

‘ _ The _ Narala?’

Nara smiled. ‘Yep.’

‘Never heard it.’

Meouch walked away.

‘It’s really in your best interest to do business with me.’

He ignored her, going back out the way he came.

As he reached the venue’s back door, Meouch was stopped by the gruff doorsman. ‘Police are out there.’

Meouch huffed. ‘I’ll handle ‘em.’

‘You an idiot? It’ll be suicide.’

He put the bass down, out of sight from the door. ‘Y’think I haven’t dealt with them in my line of work? Move.’

Meouch pushed past the doorsman and slid out through the tiniest crack he could manage. The police - all five of them, a humanoid species that were a little longer than necessary, but appeared otherwise human - turned their heads towards him. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘You work here?’ asked one of the male officers - his voice was raspy just like, as Meouch would soon discover, those of his coworkers.

‘I’m the owner.’

‘How come we’ve never seen your face before?’

‘Just bought the place. Old guy wanted to keep the whole thing under wraps, y’know?’

‘Curfew was four hours ago,’ said one of the female officers. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘Curfew-? Oh, yeah, we just, uh, wanna get cleaned up to open tomorrow. He really left the place a mess for us. Hope you don’t mind - we’ll get home soon as we’re done here.’

‘Mind if we have a look around, then?’ asked another officer. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing what you’ve done with the place.’

‘Well, I mean, it’s really not that much different than before.’ Meouch walked backwards to the door. ‘There’s a lot of work to be done, but the, uh, decor, is alright for now.’ He knocked on the door, and from it came the same noise of locks unclicking from before.

‘Name?’ said the doorman.

‘It’s me, you idiot,’ Meouch whispered, ‘open up.’

‘Your name?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s Meouch. Now open this bloody door before I-’

_ Click _ . The door opened.

‘It’s really, y’know,’ his attention had come back to the officers, ‘nothing special. If you’ve been here before then there’s nothing to see.’

‘Well I haven’t been to Mingle in years,’ said one of the cops as he walked forwards with the others. ‘Not since my graduation onto the force.’

‘Betcha never celebrated that graduation, either,’ Meouch said with a forced smile. ‘This’ll be a good way to get what you finally deserve.’

He stood out of the way of the door to let the officers pass, shielding his bass from view.

‘A lot going on,’ observed one of the officers.

‘Is that smoke I smell?’

‘And,’ began a third cop, thinking that Meouch couldn’t hear, ‘I swear I heard an illicit genre from outside.’

‘Listen, there’s a good explanation for all of that.’ Said Meouch as he subtly reached for the instrument behind him. ‘And I’ll tell you what that is in just… one… second…’

And he made a run for it.

Out the door and down the street. Looking back only once to see three of the cops chasing him, unhindered by the darkness of night.

Zigging and zagging in and out of streets, desperately trying to remember where the hell he’d landed his ship.

He wasn’t made for this long distance running, like the guys chasing him seemed to be.

They began to catch up, seemingly not even short of breath. Lanky arms reached out when they came into reach, and grabbed Meouch by the tail.

Instinctively he roared, turning and swiping at the cop’s face with his claws.

And it came off onto his paw in chunks.

Meouch stared at it in shock horror.

The two whose faces remained intact stared too.

The third stared at Meouch - as best she could - the claw marks revealing a skin of orange flesh beneath.

He made use of the confusion and made a run for it.

Meouch turned down another street that looked more familiar - not too far from his ship, he remembered, and hoped he could hold out with the running for that long.

Every centimetre closer to his ship, Meouch’s smile grew until he finally reached it and clambered in. Without a second thought he started the ignition and flew up into the atmosphere, and Commander Meouch sighed a breath of relief.

From behind him a click, and metal pressed to the back of his mane.

‘Hey -  _ Commander _ Meouch, was it?’

He couldn’t turn around, but he definitely recognised the voice.

‘Nara.’

‘Nice lil ship you got here. Doing stuff like you’re doing though, might wanna lock up a bit tighter.’

‘Whaddya want?’

Nara smiled. He could hear it in her voice.

‘I’m here to make a business deal you can’t refuse.’

Meouch groaned.

‘Alright, let’s hear it.’

‘That’s what I like to hear. Ever heard of a little planet called Heron?’


	2. For Their Protection

‘What ideas have you considered since the last meeting?’

He didn’t enjoy these meetings - that much was evident in the lax way he lounged in his chair.

‘...os…’

As much as he’d pay attention in the beginning, they always ran longer than planned.

‘...obos…’

Looking around the room, it seemed that  _ everybody _ had tuned out. He held back a laugh - at least it wasn’t just him who found the Councillor to drone on.

‘Lord Phobos!’

Phobos’ eyes drifted back to Councillor Deneb.

‘Have you been listening to a  _ word _ I’ve said?’

‘Look around, Councillor. I don’t think anybody here has listened to a word you’ve said this past half hour. You’ve been repeating yourself needlessly.’

‘Then perhaps you’d like to offer a counter argument - prove to us that it was not a mistake to elect you, of all Invexin, to this Council.’

‘It would be a mistake to  _ not _ have elected me, given my status among the people of Heron.’

‘Then prove it to us.’

‘You think that my people would be in danger?’ Phobos scoffed. ‘We have a  _ reputation _ .’

‘And what reputation is that?’ debated Deneb. ‘That from  _ thousands _ of years ago? Many of the Invexin who aided in the protection and created some fear of your people have passed. Under its current rule, Heron is known for being safe, but not for being protected from the perils of the universe.’

Phobos stood, and held back from slamming his hands on the table. ‘We have not had a single attack in my lifetime. Compare that to other planets once ruled by my people - to Zeryx or Ynvan - they were brought to the ground hundreds of years ago, because they were not prepared. We  _ remain _ prepared, Councillor.’

Deneb raised a brow. ‘I hope you will take the wellbeing of your people into consideration for the meeting six months from now, Lord Phobos. And if nobody else has any pressing matters-’ he looked around the room, to see the other Councillors yawning and stretching after so nearly dozing off, ‘-we will call this meeting closed.’

Without sparing a second to converse with the Councillors, Phobos turned and strode out of the room.

Phobos was surprised to see the sun was still in the sky as he left the Grand Hall, though he was sure it wouldn’t stay for long.

He stretched, arms reaching up to the sky as his eyes closed.

‘Phobos!’

‘Hm?’ He looked over, only to be met with a small group of children running his way. Phobos smiled. ‘Hey! What’s going on?’

‘How’d the meeting go?’ asked the child he knew as Ara, with too much enthusiasm.

‘Do you children really care about that?’

‘No!’ she shouted. ‘We were just waiting for you.’

‘The entire time?’ Ara nodded. ‘Well, if you must know - and this is just between us - it was pretty boring. That Councillor Deneb-’ Phobos rolled his eyes, and the children laughed. ‘But it’s getting late, you should be getting home.’

‘You said you’d play for us,’ said a disappointed Androma.

_ Oops. _

‘About that - I was in a rush this morning, and I wasn’t able to bring my guitar. Besides, I’m sure Deneb wouldn’t have been too pleased about my bringing an instrument into the Grand Hall during a meeting. Tomorrow, though, I  _ promise _ you-’

The children smiled brightly at Phobos - all except one, who had barely made eye contact the entire time.

‘Cassi-’

Phobos kneeled down to the child.

**Hi.**

Cassi finally looked up at Phobos and smiled gently.  **Hi, Phobos,** they signed.

**Are you alright?** Cassi nodded.  **Are your friends treating you well?** Another nod.  **I’m glad to hear it - let me know if they cause you any trouble, okay?** Phobos ruffled Cassi’s hair and stood.

‘Tomorrow, like I promised - but only if  _ you _ promise to head home immediately.’ The kids, with one last wave, did as instructed, with Ara pulling Cassi along by the hand.

Phobos waved them off before heading in the opposite direction.

‘Lord Phobos!’

Phobos closed his eyes and sighed.

He wasn’t going to have a single moment to himself today, was he?

He turned to be met with the concerned expression of Eres.

‘What is it?’

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, my Lord, I know you’ve been held up in the Council meeting all day, and-’

‘Make this quick.’

‘It’s one of our prisoners. He was meant to be trialled today-’

‘The trial can be held tomorrow.’

Eres shook her head. ‘His was quite a heinous crime, and orders were that he is to be sentenced  _ immediately _ . I know your word is absolute, my Lord, but I fear returning to the authorities only to give them such news.’

He took a deep breath in.

And then out.

‘Allow me to prepare. Have them ready the prisoner, and let them know I will be there for the sentencing shortly.’

Eres nodded, and ran back the way she had come.

Anonymity was essential when sentencing prisoners, or at least that had been the way of their land for as long as he could remember. Names were discouraged, and it was suggested that only titles were to be used; allowing a prisoner to know your identity in case of potential repercussions was considered taboo.

He had been told many times that the visage of his chosen helmet was too friendly, that he should use that of his ancestors which was more suited, in terms of appearance, to the task at hand.

He did not feel worthy of wearing such garb - he could only dream of being as great as the stories he had been told.

The prisoner was brought before him in shackles, a pitiful looking alien who trembled as tears stained his cheeks. He looked up at Phobos, who was elevated on his throne-like chair atop the stairs.

‘Name,’ demanded Lord Phobos.

‘P- Please,’ the prisoner stammered, ‘I didn’t-’

‘Your  _ name _ !’ Phobos’ voice boomed through the circular room, making the prisoner flinch. The others in attendance had become accustomed to such shouting long ago.

‘S- Seriladin,’ was the reply. ‘But please, you have to know-’

‘For what charges are you brought before me today?’

‘Abuse, except-’ A guard forced Seriladin to his knees.

‘Abuse of  _ what _ ? You must be  _ clear _ with me, Seriladin. Use your  _ words _ .’

‘Abstract, but I’ve been framed!’

Phobos stood.

Seriladin flinched.

The Lord descended the stairs. He stood before Seriladin, bringing his face closer to the prisoner. ‘Framed, were you?’

Seriladin gulped. Sweat began to bead down his brow.

‘You’re  _ lying _ to me, Seriladin.’

‘Okay, okay! Maybe I wasn’t framed, but I’m not from around here, you need to understand - abstract art is okay on my planet, i- it’s just, I didn’t know, please, Your Lordship, just let me leave, and I promise to return to my home planet and-’

‘Silence!’ Phobos boomed as he stood up straight. Seriladin flinched again.

‘You will be set free.’

Seriladin sighed a breath of relief. ‘Thank you, Your Lordship, I’ll make sure-’

‘To Exile.’

Seriladin’s face dropped. ‘Wait - wait, Exile?’

‘You will be sent to our nearest moon. If you are able to survive the perils that lay in wait, you will be granted freedom, and our people will escort you back to your home planet.’

‘But-’

‘You should consider yourself lucky, Seriladin. I’m letting you off  _ easy _ , as I believe you truly have made a mistake; most prisoners would be sentenced much harsher.’

‘On your feet,’ growled one of the guards as he pulled on the chains.

‘Wait, there’s some kind of mistake-’

‘I wanna go there as little as you do, and there’s a slim chance I might actually come back alive.’

The colour drained from Seriladin’s face as he shouted and cried, and begged for his freedom until the great door slammed behind him.

Phobos removed the helmet.

Not a shred of regret rest in his expression - he knew he had made the correct choice.

It was in the best interest of his people.


	3. Fates Intertwine

‘Heron?’ Meouch lifted the ship from the ground, and blasted through the atmosphere. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘Pretty square planet,’ Nara replied. ‘Most art forms are outlawed, but I’m sure you don’t want the history lesson.’

Meouch laughed. ‘You’d be a woman after my heart if ya weren’t pressin’ a gun to my head.’

‘There’s an underground society there that thrives on art. Some create it, most just like to consume it. This is where you come in.’

‘So you want me to give ‘em some funk.’

‘The art created there is… substandard. They don’t have any off-planet reference. They need someone to bring them the high quality stuff.’

‘And you were waitin’ for me to do it.’

‘Well, you or someone like you.’

Meouch sighed. ‘Gimme the coordinates.’

Nara took a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket, reached over, and dropped it into Meouch’s lap. ‘You’ll need to be careful.’

‘Don’t tell me how to do my job.’

‘You’d be surprised how many have been sent out on this job only to be sentenced to death. I  _ wouldn’t  _ tell you how to do your job if there wasn’t a real risk to your life.’

‘Where d’ya want me to drop ya off, then?’

‘Hm?’

‘If it’s gonna be so dangerous, I’m sure y’don’t wanna be there.’

‘Oh no, I’m coming with you. Wouldn’t want you flaking out on me, after all.’

Meouch huffed. ‘Of course ya wouldn’t.’

The white and blue planet of Heron came into view; even from space it wasn’t much to gawk at. Multiple ships orbited the planet, as though patrolling the perimeter.

The gun which had once been pressed to Meouch’s head was no longer present, but he was sure it was in easy reach in case he tried to veer off course.

‘Got a plan?’ asked Nara.

‘I’ll do what I always do.’

‘Which is?’

‘Improvise.’

‘Credit where it’s due - you’re stupider than you look. You gotta go in there, through customs.’

‘Fuck customs,’ Meouch growled. ‘It ain’t efficient.’

‘There’s a pretty tight hold on this place. See them?’ Nara nodded towards one of the orbiting ships. ‘Planetary patrol. These guys are tougher than most. They’ll chase you down even if it means putting their own lives at risk. I’ve heard some intruders get shot on sight, no questions asked.’

Meouch sighed. ‘Customs it is, then.’ He piloted the ship towards the translucent dome, the top of which opened upon his approach.

Nara smiled - he could hear it in her voice. ‘You might need to think of a plan after all.’

An officer approached the ship as it landed, and motioned for the two to step out of the vehicle. 

‘Present your identification.’

‘Ah, fuck,’ Meouch mumbled as he patted down his pockets. ‘Left mine in the ship, gimme a sec.’

Meouch ducked back into the ship, looking around for the passport he knew he’d kept  _ somewhere _ just in case of a scenario like this.

The condition he kept his ship in wasn’t one he would consider a mess, but the state of it certainly wasn’t helping - he made a note to give it a proper clean once he was finished here.

Eventually finding it tucked away under the pilot’s seat, Meouch popped out in time to notice Nara being waved through by the officer. She looked back just long enough to give Meouch a smirk and a wave goodbye.

‘Recovered your documents?’ the officer questioned.

‘Yeah.’ Meouch handed over the passport, which the officer flipped open.

The officer gave the identifying photograph a glance and looked back up. Multiple times, just in case the Ibesi before him - already a species he had seldom seen in his life - didn’t match the one in the image.

‘How’d she get through so damn easy?’ Meouch asked, growing impatient with the procedure.

‘That’s on a confidential basis.’

Meouch raised a brow. ‘Confidential?  _ Her _ ?’

‘Jazzlan Meouch?’

‘That’s me.’

‘How long do you plan on staying on Heron?’

‘Couple’a days, few weeks max. Haven’t decided.’

‘I’ll need to check your vehicle. Is there anything in there which I should know about before I begin my inspection?’

‘Nothin’ dangerous.’

The officer began his inspection, rooting around a little more than Meouch would have liked. ‘You’re a musician?’ The officer shouted back. ‘What is it you play?’

‘Just bass.’

‘Genre?’

‘Nothin’ excitin’.’

The officer ducked back out of the ship. ‘You’re free to continue through. Your ship will need to stay in our bays during your visit.’

‘What?’ Meouch exclaimed. ‘I told ya, there’s nothin’ dangerous in there. Think a fuckin’ crash would do more damage to the ship herself than to anythin’ around here!’

‘Your craft contains multiple illicit items - we can allow you to keep these, but we cannot allow you to bring these on-planet.’

Meouch huffed.

‘We can allow you to take any personal effects - money, identification - with you, and you can pilot your ship to the holding bays. I’ll guide you in the right direction.’

Meouch got back into the pilot’s seat, the customs officer in tow.

‘Go straight - slowly - turn right, where the guide is waving.’

Meouch followed the instructions given to him, turning into a dark, open room that was much like a hangar. Small lights lined the road. He took a little relief in knowing that his ship was not the only one to be parked there.

‘Follow these lights to the first open bay.’

His modestly sized vessel was wedged between two larger vehicles - ones which must have belonged to entire crews. Times like this he missed the larger ship of a crew, but he ultimately knew he had done the right thing for himself.

The officer stepped out of the ship as Meouch grabbed the essentials - wallet and passport, as suggested, and, of course, his bass.

‘I must ask that you leave your instrument behind,’ instructed the officer as Meouch stepped away from his ship.

‘There’s nothin’ wrong with it,’ Meouch argued. ‘Ain’t gonna smack anyone over the head with ‘er.’

‘I’m aware that you  _ are _ a visitor to our planet, so it’s my duty to advise you that bass is one of the instruments which is prohibited here.’

‘ _ One of _ ? Hate to see that list,’ he grumbled as he returned the bass to his ship. ‘As long as everythin’s how it was when I get back.’

The officer nodded, and walked along with Meouch to exit the hangar. ‘We do not touch the ships unless absolutely necessary. Now-’ they stood outside the hangar, and the officer extended an arm out to the outside world. He smiled, but it was obvious to Meouch that it was forced. ‘Welcome to Heron.’

If there was one word Meouch would use to describe Heron, it was  _ stale _ . He’d been to many planets in his lifetime, but none which he had visited extensively had been so deprived.

Wandering the city’s centre he didn’t see a flash of a club, the doors of a gallery, or even mention of a museum. Anything he saw dedicated to the arts was brief; any crafts in stores seemed to stick to the colour schemes of precious metals, and statues or images were dedicated to old rulers and figures from history, though these seemed to exist purely in an educational capacity.

The locals seemed happy but, he’d noticed, there was a certain shine missing from their eyes. He’d seen it before - they desperately needed the fulfilment only art could bring in their lives.

Yet his ears pricked - perhaps hope was not lost.

In the near distance he heard something.  _ Definitely _ music, but not the kind  _ he _ brought to people. It was gentle, calming even to his adventure-seasoned heart. His was a heart that was always right, and he’d learnt when to follow it.

This was one of those times.

He followed his ears to a small park - uninhabited with the exception of a single Invexin sitting on the fountain’s edge. The melody he strummed seemed to blend into the ambience of the day.

‘Y’got talent,’ Meouch noted. ‘Yer wastin’ it on a planet like this.’

The Invexin stopped playing and lifted his head. His expression was punctuated with a scowl. ‘This planet is my home. I don’t expect an alien to see it, but this place is truly beautiful.’

‘Well, it would be nice t’ play with ya sometime, but yer “beautiful planet” wouldn’t let me bring my instrument on-planet.’

‘What do you play?’

‘Nothin’ legal, apparently,’ Meouch grumbled.

‘Unfortunate,’ replied the Invexin. ‘It might have been interesting to hear what you can do.’

‘Phobos!’ exclaimed the unmistakable voice of a child. Meouch looked up and, sure enough, four children hurried over. ‘You kept your promise!’

The Invexin, who Meouch now knew as Phobos, smiled. ‘I wouldn’t break a promise to you guys.’

‘You did yesterday,’ pouted the child in front, who had called out before.

‘I explained it to you yesterday, Ara. I always keep my promises if I have a choice in the matter.’

Another child had caught Meouch’s eye. This was mostly due to the fact that she hadn’t stopped staring at him the entire time. She looked away for long enough to look at Phobos instead and pointed at the Ibesi. ‘Who’s your kitty cat friend?’

‘That’s an excellent question.’ Phobos looked up at him. ‘Maybe the  _ kitty cat _ would like to introduce himself.’

‘I,’ he puffed out his chest and held a hand to it, giving himself more self-importance than he knew he was worth, ‘am Commander Meouch.’

‘A  _ Commander _ ?’ asked one of the children, his eyes lighting up.

‘That’s so cool!’ exclaimed another.

Meouch, who had not moved from his grandiose position, smiled brightly; he had received the admiration of children, perhaps the best gift anybody could ask for.

‘But we still want to hear you play!’ huffed a third child.

Now was Phobos’ turn to smile. ‘Alright. Cassi.’ The fourth and final child, who Meouch had barely noticed on account of their looking shyly to the ground, looked up to Phobos. The older Invexin signed something, to which Cassi signed back.

Meouch, who was unsure of the Invexin Sign Language, was left clueless.

Without another word, Phobos began to play another slow tune on his guitar. This, Meouch found, was much less interesting than the last one; it stood out from the day like a sore thumb, but he could barely complain if this was what the children wanted to hear.

And yet, despite how uninspiring Meouch found the tune, the children were smiling and barely able to keep their feet planted on the ground. He knew there were different tastes for different folk, but this could barely be considered tasteful.

When the song came to a close, the children clapped and cheered.

‘Ya kids like that kinda music?’ Were the first words out of Meouch’s mouth.

‘Do you have an issue with it?’ asked Phobos.

‘It’s not my style, but what would I know?’

‘What kind of music do you like?’ one of the children asked.

‘I’m a bit of a musician myself.’ Meouch began smiling again; he knew his words would surely impress the children further. ‘What would ya kids say to a bit of funk?’

The children stopped smiling, and instead appeared inquisitive.

Phobos, too, had a solemn expression on his face. Through gritted teeth he barely whispered, ‘Funk is an illicit genre on Heron. You should’ve known this before visiting.’

‘What’s funk?’ queried another child.

‘I’ll explain another day.’ Phobos stood. ‘Time isn’t on my side today. Sorry I only had time for one song.’

The children grumbled as Phobos packed his guitar away. ‘Just one more?’

‘Unfortunately being an adult doesn’t leave you with much time for fun. There will be more tomorrow, I promise.’

‘We can still play, right?’

Phobos nodded. ‘The day’s still young. You guys stay safe, alright?’ He waved them off as he began to walk away.

‘We will!’

‘Bye, Phobos!’

‘See ya, Lord Phobos!’

Meouch’s ears pricked up. ‘Did you say  _ Lord _ Phobos?’

‘Mhm,’ nodded the child. ‘But I think being a Commander is probably cooler. Don’t tell Phobos I said that, though.’

_ Now that’s a mouse worth chasin’. _

‘I’m not a Lord so I wouldn’t know, but I reckon bein’ a Commander’s  _ definitely _ cooler. I’ve gotta bounce - I’ll catch ya kids later.’

Just as they had Phobos, the children waved Meouch off and gave him their goodbyes; he had become an idol in their eyes so quickly.

Meouch gave them a small wave, but saying his farewells wasn’t important; what  _ was _ important was catching up to the Invexin guitarist.

'Hey, Phobos.’ Meouch fell in line with him.

‘That’s  _ Lord _ Phobos to you.’

‘Sorry,  _ Lord _ Phobos. That bit about funk back there - I was just jokin’. I know how ya feel about funk here, didn’t think ya felt the same way about jokes.’

Phobos stopped and faced Meouch. ‘Funk is an issue we take seriously here. It took us centuries to rid ourselves of the problem. We  _ don’t _ want it returning.’

‘Alright, it’s more of a serious issue than I thought. I’ll be straight with ya - it’s my first time here on yer…  _ beautiful _ planet. Maybe if ya could help me, y’know… show me the ropes, I’d have an easier time ‘round ‘ere. I’m not gonna get very far if everythin’ I say references some illegal activity, y’know?’

Phobos lifted a brow.

Meouch held eye contact.

And Phobos sighed. ‘Meet me in this park tomorrow, 8am sharp. I’ll show you everything Heron has to offer.’

‘I’ll be there, nice n’ early.’

Phobos continued to walk away, and Meouch smiled a fanged grin.

_ Gotcha right where I want ya. _


End file.
